Karma's Happy Time
by AuroraBlix
Summary: Karma decides to give Agent Louisiana a crash course in 'Bitch, Please', but it turns out a lot differently than anyone planned. Add in a required, incognito demonstration of the Freelancer stealth abilities, Maine as an escort, and a lot of vodka, and suddenly Louisiana's night just got a whole lot more entertaining.
1. Chapter 1

**- June 16; 0700 hrs; Messhall -**

"Oh, God, please shoot me," Agent Washington groaned as he read the memo in his hands for the third time.

Actually, that was misleading, because it was more of a condescending notification informing him that he had been _chosen_. Feel free to insert ominous music here.

Yes, Washington was one of the chosen few to go on the least desirable mission ever. Of all time. They had all been informed, of course, by the Director that this mission was coming up but everyone had been hoping and praying that they wouldn't be selected. Evidently, nobody had been listening to Wash's prayers.

"Oh, Wash. You got one, too?" The tan-armored speaker who came up behind him was none other than Agent York. "I got mine a few minutes ago. I can't believe they're making us do this. Hell, I'm all for demonstrating the badassery that is the Project but do we really have to do it like... this?" York was complaining but, due to his easy-going nature, it was half-hearted.

Washington sighed again before replying, "I know, it's completely ridiculous. We're special agents, for Christ's sake! That should carry some weight. But are we treated with respect? No!" He knew it was ridiculous to bitch about it, but he was quickly working himself into a full-blown rant.

"And what's this about it being required for us to wear a tux and bring a date?! I know it's supposed to be incognito but isn't that a little much?!" Washington would have continued but deflated when he heard the half-teasing half-bored voice of the newest recruit behind him.

Of course, she'd actually been a part of the program for a good chunk of time but she'd only recently gotten through her probationary period, and just been cleared to go on missions. So, of course, the rest of the agents insisted on pretending as if the last six months hadn't happened and took to calling her 'Rookie' again.

"Oh, quit your bitching, Washington. Randomly selected agents of Project Freelancer are being required to show up at a UNSC fuction, protect the mark from the would-be assassins, and do so without drawing attention to themselves. Get over it." He refused to turn around and face what he knew was oddly-colored hair, a mocking smirk, and a lot of sarcasm.

In fact, it was a widely held theory that the Director only enlisted her so she could weed out those who lacked the determination to be in Project Freelancer. And he wasn't sure he had that anymore. He could punch through a 9 inch wall of steel and endure days of torture without giving up any information.

But, Wash couldn't handle more than ten consecutive minutes of Agent Louisiana's sarcasm, dry humor, and explosive temper.

When she had gotten here she had been pretty laid back -not anywhere near York's caliber- but seemingly relaxed. A little snarky and a little moody, sure, but she was redeemed of that in the eyes of most by being a fantastic fighter. No doubt about that. Of course, no one knew just how fantastic until about three weeks previously. It may take a while for her to gain any traction but, once you seriously pissed her off, Louisiana was a surprisingly strong and agile, 5'4" Whirlwind of Doom.

And Wyoming had the scars to prove it. Let's just say that everyone had warned him not to touch her ass and leave it at that. In fact, everyone was more than a little wary around her nowadays as opposed to when she'd first arrived.

Washington was pulled out of his reverie by her voice, normally walking perfectly the line between mirth and boredom, which was now trying not to laugh as she read over his shoulder. "Oh, God! I'll shoot you if you want me to," she offered, grinning. An unusual development in and of itself.

"No thanks. I'll take my chances with finding a 'date'. That's sure to be dangerous enough around here." He turned to look at Louisiana as he spoke. Hmmm, she'd changed her hair again. She seemed to have abandoned the pink polka-dotted, forest-green style that she'd been sporting for the last month and it was now straight, shoulder-blade-length and candy-apple red with blonde tips. Interesting. Another wide-spread theory about her ever-changing hair was that she only did it to, successfully, piss off the Director.

"Yeah, good luck with that buddy!" York slapped his friend on the shoulder before beating an inexplicably hasty retreat to the training area.

"Hmmm," she said, speculating. "What about South? She's a bitchy blond with no standards, totally your type!" She turned the idea over in her head for a few seconds before discarding it and answering her own question. "Nah! She's too violent to make it all the way through the night without causing some kind of scene…" Louisiana let her voice trail off in thought before continuing to think out loud, a slight frown on her face.

"You _could_ ask the paranoid blue chick with daddy issues, Carolina? But that's about as safe as hugging a nest of irate hornets… Or the cute Brit in green armor, she seems nice." She trailed off again before her face cleared up and she smiled brightly. "But, hey, why the hell do I care? I don't have to go! Have fun, Washington!" Then she waved jauntily and walked away to get ready for a long day of hanging out with the Standard Issue soldiers onboard, doing her best to avoid actual work while simultaneously annoying the Director, and teasing the rookies.

Wyoming, who had heard everything, called over to her as she left, "My dear Louisiana, do give Karma my best won't you?"

Her only response was to flip him off before she rounded the corner.

The others in the room, Freelancers and SI soldiers alike, remained silent; it seemed that they all knew what the actual recipients of the horrifying communique didn't. And none of them were particularly keen on sharing.

It was just a lot more fun to see what would happen.

* * *

**A/N: If you like it then, hey, you're a nice person! If you don't then, hey, you're a sane person! Either way, you win. This is something that I started writing a long time ago in response to a challenge on another site called 'Maine/OC '. Unfortunately, the latter part of the original plot had to be scrapped so this is going to be more humor than romance. **

**IMPORTANT: I know you guys are reading my stuff so I demand six reviews (even just one-worded like "awesome" or "funny" or "sucked") before I give you the next chapter... Your move.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Alright, you ungrateful bastards, someone finally submitted that sixth and final review needed. Seriously, what the hell, guys? It took you more than a month and a half for six of you to write a single, applicable word and press a button? You lazy, lazy bastards *shakes head in disappointment*... Well, enjoy! (And the same rule still applies! Six more reviews FOR THIS CHAPTER before I post the next!)**

* * *

**- June 17; 0700 hrs; Messhall -**

"_SONOFABITCH_!" was a very angry yell coming from a very short female agent.

The Standard Issue soldier, who had just delivered the message informing her to be ready to go by 0600 the next day, smirked behind his helmet at the fuming Freelancer. Everyone loved to see this one angry, as long all that rage was directed at someone other than themselves.

Louisiana glared at the messenger (contemplating whether or not to shoot him) before sighing in a defeated, yet conversational, voice, "Hey there Karma, long time, no see. Reginald sends his best" then walking over to the Training Floor 1 Observatory.

She _hated_ that prick in charge.

Hated, despised, loathed, abhorred, reviled, detested!

He thought he was so _fucking_ clever, didn't he!

Someone must have told him that she had been making fun of Washington, so he decided to have a little fun. Or it was Karma getting back at her for the Wyoming incident. _Well, I'll show him! I'll show both of them!_

The question was how? She _could_ just throw the mission and let that red-colored paintball hit the mark. But that would condemn Project Freelancer to redaction and that just wasn't acceptable. Not only had she not accomplished what she'd meant to by joining, but she would probably also get beaten up in the hallways of the _Mother of Invention_. Which was _also_ unacceptable.

A couple of her so-called colleagues were sparring with pugil sticks down below (the 'cute Brit in green armor' she'd mentioned the day before and her blue and pink friend) but, instead of watching, Louisiana bee-lined over to a diversely colored group in the corner. They were all engrossed in an arm-wrestling match between the Freelancer Grapes (as Louisiana had heard somebody refer to them).

If she wasn't going to fuck everyone over then she might as well make sure they succeeded. She'd spent the last few years lying through her teeth in a too-short dress so, at the very least, she knew she could help.

Washington (looking torn between terror and fascination), York (drinking coffee and making general sounds of encouragement toward the twins), and Connie (looking sly and sneaky and, she had to admit it, kinda cute) stood clustered around the brother and sister, all of whom were in civilian clothes.

Carolina and Maine were both fully armored (though with their helmets off), but while Maine stood away from the group and looked bored, Carolina was sneaking glances at the competition while she thought nobody was looking. It just wouldn't do for anyone to know that she had bet two-hundred bucks on North.

Louisiana looked over each male carefully, seeing as she wasn't in the mood to deal with Connie at the moment -bitter as she still was about a wager that had gone very wrong- and she was _never_ in the mood to deal with Carolina (_Rotten, paranoid bitch_). Her best bet was York. She was on better terms with him than with most, and he would make her laugh. But, no, she didn't want any trouble from _Cary_.

Every time they spoke it seemed to piss her off. That girl had it bad for him but York was either a lot dumber, or a lot better at lying, than Louisiana gave him credit for.

Obviously, she wasn't going to ask Washington and she wasn't all that interested in South's doormat of a brother. She _could_ ask her Standard Issue friend, Dan, but she doubted that he would make a good impression. Besides, she knew he wouldn't be able to keep a straight face if his life depended on it when he saw her in a dress.

Well, barring someone like Jersey Shore or Illannoying, there was logically only one person left to ask.

Louisiana sauntered over and said "... Hey, Maine! How's it going?" as nonchalantly as possible, trying for a friendly, charming smile. The others looked over at her, surprised that she was willingly attempting to socialize with _anyone_, let alone with the Boarders. Or the bad-tempered behemoth in white.

Maine was an imposing figure at just north of six-and-a-half feet with a deep, gravelly voice and _serious_ temper problems to match, but his dark hair (though usually shaved) and honey-brown eyes didn't really leave anything worth objecting to.

Plus, he had _fantastic_ bone structure. Louisiana just hoped she hadn't already offended him at some point. It was just so _hard_ to remember these days who liked her and who didn't. Or rather, who _hated_ her and who didn't.

He turned toward her, no expression on his face at all, before growling out, "...South is kicking North's ass."

She tried to keep her voice chipper, and _just_ missed as she said, "Oh, so nothing new!" _Now is the time for action!_ Louisiana thought to herself _...So act!_ "Hey, um, d'you gotta go on that stealth mission, too? The one where we're supposed to stop the fake Insurrectionists from painting the general an unflattering shade of red and wear civilian clothes and mingle and bring a fake date?" She babbled on uneasily, though trying _really_ hard to hide it by fixing her gaze on the two-grapes-on-a-vine siblings.

_Dear god! I'm almost stuttering, for fuck's sake! I must be really out of practice here. I gotta fix that..._

Maine looked down (a long way down) at her, stared for several seconds, before he nodded a little slowly, if not a little suspiciously.

Her mouth went dry. Did he guess what her next question would be? Well, there was only one way to find out.

"Well... you _know_ the poor bastards in tan and teal are going together-" Louisiana was sure that the vein in Carolina's temple was going to burst soon "-and I think Washington _bribed_ Missi into going with him..." He kept staring and in her peripheral vision Louisiana could see the heads of Connie and Washington swivel around to stare as well.

"So... I was wondering if you-" she took a deep breath before plowing on "-would mind tagging along?"

She'd meant it as a statement, but he was just staring and not saying anything and _staring_ as she talked and she could hear her voice get higher at the end of the sentence, making it sound like a question.

However, she was spared from his disconcerting gaze for a while longer because, when she finally forced out her reason for talking to them, they were all distracted by the sound of breaking ceramic, a pained yell, and a grisly _pop_.

Louisiana and Maine looked over to see what had happened.

York was dripping head-to-toe with hot coffee, staring at the two with a mixture of shock and horror, his cup having shattered in his hand when he heard Louisiana's request.

The agonized shout had come from the Dakotas. North, having been distracted by the _astonishing_ development in front of him, lost concentration on the competition with his sister and when South's brutal strength no longer met any resistance... well, yet another trip to the infirmary was needed.

Though, the fact that it was a dislocated shoulder won Louisiana the _Mother of Invention_ office pool as well as an additional pretty penny from Dan. She'd had fifty-to-one odds that North's next injury was caused by anyone _but_ South.

* * *

Louisiana helped a wincing North down the hall to get fixed up, under the disapproving eye of his borderline-feral sister, before heading back down to the training floor to find someone to spar with. Preferably Wyoming, seeing as she wasn't in the mood to beat someone to a bloody pulp then actually feel bad about it later.

As she ambled along the corridor, Louisiana heard footsteps behind her and turned to see Maine walking up.

He came to a stop, looked at her for a moment, then growled out "I don't have a suit."

She grinned in response, "I'll get something situated for you and leave it in your quarters. But, hey, look on the bright side! It _is_ a good way to test your skills out of armor and in an environment that you're not comfortable with."

Maine shrugged, partly mollified by her encouragement and the idea that the mission was simply another challenge and _not_ an intentionally cruel and unusual form of torture.

Louisiana gave him a friendly little punch on the shoulder as they started toward the training room again. "Don't worry about it, big guy. Everything will be fine. We should be done with the mission, back here, and out of that fucking formal-wear by ten, tomorrow night."

* * *

**A/N: Aw, look at that, Louisiana's nervous about asking a boy out! How cute! Also, WHY did Carolina bet on North? I have no idea...**


End file.
